


Before, During, and After the Court of Nightmares

by elanorjoy



Series: ACOMAF from Rhys' POV-Selected Scenes [5]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Rhys' POV, alternate POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7571761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elanorjoy/pseuds/elanorjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapters 41-43 of ACOMAF from Rhysand's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before the Court of Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> I get why Maas left the conversation about what Rhys needed Feyre to be in the Court of Nightmares out of the book. It increased the tension, played with our imaginations, surprised us when Rhys pulled her onto his lap, etc. 
> 
> BUT
> 
> I really wanted to see that conversation. Rhys is so distraught and uncomfortable in that scene and I wanted to explore why. So I wrote that part of Chapter 41 from Rhys' POV and added a little bit to it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 41 from Rhysand's POV.

I had promised Feyre honesty after the Weaver and the Attor. I wanted to make sure she understood completely what she was walking into tomorrow. And I wanted her to have the opportunity to say no, if that’s what she needed.

As I waited in the foyer for her to return from her walk, I realized that I  _ wanted _ her to say no. I didn’t want to take her under another mountain. I didn’t want to remind her of the monster I was to the rest of the world. I didn’t want her to have to debase herself like that. I had seen the way the members of the Court of Nightmares had looked at her Under the Mountain. Not one of them had dared to touch her then, and they wouldn’t now, but I had seen their eyes on her. Painted and afraid and drunk on faerie wine, she had been a constant source of entertainment for them, gone from being one High Lord’s plaything to another’s. It sickened me to imagine her put in that position again, even if it was, and always had been, a lie.

And if my reluctance to bring back before those people who had seen her so debased wasn’t enough, there was the fact that Feyre was actually beginning to like me. Not tolerate, not endure, but she actually seemed to enjoy herself when we were together. She’d kissed me on the cheek. It'd been weeks ago now, but she’d come into my room, in spite of the darkness rolling off of me and she’d comforted me. Kissed me. I could tell that she missed me when I had to leave Velaris to attend to duties in the rest of my territory too. It was enough to give me hope that I might be able to tell her about the mating bond soon. That she might be ready to accept it.

The mating bond had been pressing on me more and more lately. And this morning . . . Cauldron boil me, seeing her crowned with a diadem that matched mine and dressed like a queen of the Night Court had been one thing, but to see her face the disdain of her own kind without flinching and plead for peace by my side had been more than right. It had been perfect. We were perfect together. Her place was beside me as an equal and we were getting so close. I hated the idea of putting any of that at risk by bringing her to the Court of Nightmares.  

Feyre smelled of the Sidra as she walked through the door. Her cheeks were pink with the cold, drawing my attention to how they’d filled out over the past weeks. Her eyes were bright and clear and no longer framed with dark circles and she was still wearing that crown woven into her hair. She had a coat on over her white dress, but even so, she looked like a queen.

She froze in the middle of the foyer when she saw me waiting for her and immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”

I had promised her honesty, so I truthfully replied, “I’m debating asking you stay tomorrow.”

And then she was defiant, crossing her arms over her chest, frowning. “I thought I was going.”

No, not defiant, I realized. She was protecting herself, crossing her arms over her chest like she could shield her heart from the pain of being pushed aside. I ran a hand through my hair and tried to explain myself to her. “What I have to be tomorrow, who I have to become is not…it’s not something I want you to see. How I will treat you, treat others...”

“The mask of the High Lord,” she finished for me.  

Of course, she had seen me like that before. I had lived like that for so long Under the Mountain that it had been easy to be the cruel.  And maybe that’s what bothered me the most. I did not want to give her a reason to remember how she had despised me before.

“Yes,” I muttered, sinking to bottom step of the stairs behind me.

She regarded me . “Why don’t you want me to see that?”

_ Because you’re my mate and I don’t want you to fear me _ . The words were right there on the edge of my tongue, but I bit them back. Instead, I spoke other truths that were just as troubling to me.

“Because you’ve only started to look at me like I’m not a monster, and I can’t stomach the idea of anything you see tomorrow, being beneath that mountain, putting you back into that place where I found you.”

I watched her as she made the connection and remembered how Amarantha had seen the Court of Nightmares and decided to model her court Under the Mountain after it. She nodded once, as if she knew what the stakes were and found them acceptable. Her eyes were steel grey in her resolve as she met my gaze and said, “Let me help. In whatever way I can.”  

But she didn’t know. When Amren had suggested that Feyre could serve as a distraction, she hadn’t elaborated much because we had all known what kind of behavior would provide a distraction for the Court of Nightmares. But Feyre had been drunk on faerie wine during the nights that Amarantha’s court had reflected the violence and obscenity that occurred in the Court of Nightmares. Without even that for context, Feyre had agreed because it would help us and I loved her for it. That didn’t mean that I didn’t want to shield her from it.

“The role you will have to play is not a pleasant one,” I began.

“I trust you,” she said immediately and my heart ached. She did trust me. The idea of putting that trust in jeopardy, even if it was to save the world, was abhorrent. She closed the distance between us and sat down next to me on the stairs. The cool night air still clung to her coat and she was close enough to me that I could feel it caressing my skin.

“Why did Mor look so disturbed when she left?”

I swallowed down the guilt and anger that her question brought to the surface. I had dedicated years to making sure that Mor wouldn’t have to visit the Court of Nightmares any more than was necessary. Her visits there were usually scheduled weeks in advance so she could prepare herself mentally and emotionally for the trip back to her childhood home. I hated that I could only give her only an evening’s notice in advance. She was nearly as old as I was, but I still saw the golden-haired wild child whose laughter filled the halls of the Hewn City with music when I looked at her.  And what they had done to her for it…

Feyre was still waiting for me to answer her question. I gave her only the barest facts. Mor could tell Feyre the rest, if and when she decided to. “I was there, in the Hewn City, the day her father declared she was to be sold in marriage to Eris, eldest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.” Her eyes flickered in recognition and I struggled to keep the anger out of my voice. “Eris had a reputation for cruelty, and Mor…begged me not to let it happen.” I could still see her lovely face, her eyes wide and wild and full of tears as she pleaded with me. “For all her power, all her wildness, she had no voice, no rights with those people. And my father didn’t particularly care if his cousins used their offspring as breeding stock.”  

“What happened?” Feyre asked.

The words poured out of me. “I brought Mor to the Illyrian camp for a few days. And she saw Cassian, and decided she’d do the one thing that would ruin her value to these people. I didn’t know until after, and...it was a mess. With Cassian, with her, with our families. And it’s another long story, but the short of it is that Eris refused to marry her. Said she’d been sullied by a bastard-born lesser faerie, and now he’d sooner fuck a sow. Her family … they …” Images of her destroyed body flashed through my head. Mor had refused to let me see the memories, but I had been able to gather enough from the nature of her wounds. Even under the care of the best healers in Velaris, it had still taken her almost a year to walk again and longer to regain the use of her right hand. I cleared my throat and pushed down the rage, willed my voice to be steady. “When they were done, they dumped her on the Autumn Court border, with a note nailed to her body that said she was Eris’s problem.” I felt Feyre stiffen at the words, felt the horror and anger surge across the bond as she processed the atrocity that had been done to her friend. “Eris left her for dead in the middle of their woods. Azriel found her a day later. It was all I could do to keep him from going to either court and slaughtering them all.”

The anger, such anger, kept surging along the bond. Next to me, heat started to radiate off of her, dispelling what remained of the cool night air clinging to her coat in an instant. She reached for my hand and her skin was hot, but she was in control of that fire power. It was instinctive for my thumb to brush along the back of her hand, to try to offer what comfort I could.

She looked up at me and her eyes were hard as flint as she said in the voice of a warrior queen, “Tell me what I need to do tomorrow.”

“You told me once that you were no one’s pet,” I started, looking deep into her eyes as I said with unshakable conviction, “And you are not.”

“But?”

I sighed and ran my free hand through my hair again. “But I am going to ask you to act like you are.” To her credit, she didn’t flinch away from my gaze or pull her hand from mine. I went on, “I will have to—to use you like you are my plaything. To be the High Lord’s whore once again. Tomorrow, we are going to pretend that I am making a statement to all of Prythian by presenting you to the Court of Nightmares.”

There were plenty of people in the Hewn City who had seen Feyre with me Under the Mountain, who had seen how I’d dressed her in the revealing clothes of the Court of Nightmares and ordered her to dance for me or kept her sitting on my lap during those horrible nights. It had raised plenty of eyebrows then.  And I knew enough from what Azriel had gleaned from his spies that most of the other Courts believed Feyre was merely a fickle woman who couldn’t make up her mind about what she wanted. I’d paid to have those rumors squashed with the truth, but many still didn’t, our wouldn’t, believe it.

And bringing her to the Court of Nightmares would only make that worse.

She squeezed my hand a little tighter. “I trust you,” she said again, her voice firm and soft. “I know you won’t ask me to do anything I am incapable of doing.”

There was nothing but self-assurance and trust zinging along the bond between us and I wanted to have faith in my ability to deserve that trust. “Feyre...”

“What will make you feel better?” she asked. “Tell me exactly what to expect from you and I’ll tell you if there’s anything that I can’t stand the thought of you doing.”

The idea of explaining every step to her, of saying the things I’d do out loud, was almost worse than the thought of actually doing them. For the first time in centuries, I felt embarrassed. Even so, I played the scenario out in my head, and started talking. It was the least I could do.

“I’ll have to dress you like I did Under the Mountain,” I began, my throat dry. She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t protest. “And you’ll enter first with Mor. She always goes ahead of me to give them time to prepare themselves for my arrival.” It’s a small courtesy that they don’t deserve, but I don’t mention that. “You shouldn’t say a word until I arrive. It won’t be safe. They’ll expect you to be docile and needy, like I own you, body and soul and nothing else matters to you.”

She swallowed, hard, and I expected her to let go of my hand, but she didn’t. “Keep going.”

“Mor will kneel first, followed by the rest of the Court. You’ll kneel with everyone else and I’ll come to you and welcome you to my Court. And even though everyone will still be kneeling, they’ll be watching us. I’ve never brought a...lover to the Court of Nightmares. I rarely bring anyone there with me and certainly not anyone as controversial as you. Keir will be dying to talk to you and feel what kind of relationship exists between us and there are other powerful people who will be watching  how we interact with him. They all have contacts in other Courts and whatever they learn will spread like wildfire within a few days.”

“And if they think I’m your whore…”

I flinch at the word. It had never bothered me when I was the whore, but the thought that anyone referring to Feyre like that made my blood boil. “They will all be fixated with you so that they can collect information and sell it to the highest bidder.”

She nodded slowly and chewed on her lower lip. “What’s next?”

I took a long, deep breath, trying to imagine the scenario with anyone but Feyre, hoping it would make it easier to talk about. It didn’t.

“I’ll probably do something outrageous and idiotic, like throw you over my shoulder or sit you on my lap. Something that’s unprecedented and will most definitely piss Keir off.” That was the silver lining in this whole fucked up situation. Pissing of Keir was something I didn’t get to do often enough. “He’ll approach the throne and give me reports on everything that’s happened in the Hewn City since I was there last.”

“How long ago was that?” Feyre asked.

“Before you came to Velaris,” I cringed as I remembered the last time I’d been there. I’d felt that terrifying burst of fear across the bond, saw the splatter of red against the wall, and then nothing. I’d almost ripped Keir’s head off just because he was the first thing I saw when vision cleared. “I try to only visit the Court of Nightmares a few times a year.”

She nodded. “And then?”

“And then, while every eye is on the two of us, Azriel will go to Mor’s family’s quarters and retrieve the Orb. We’ll have to do whatever we need to in order to distract them until he returns . . .” I trailed off, looking intently at the floorboards, not wanting to go into the dirty details.

I wanted Feyre. It was getting harder and harder just to be in her presence without being overcome with the urge to press her against the nearest flat surface and kiss her senseless. But I did not want it to happen like this. I wanted to touch her and hold her and kiss her because she wanted me to and I certainly didn’t want to do any of that with an audience. I hated that this was the best solution we had been able to come up with.

Feyre leaned over so that she could wrap her other hand around mine so that my hand was cradled between both of hers. She angled her head and stared at me until I lifted my eyes to met hers. Her face was open and her eyes were clear when she said for the third time. “I trust you, Rhysand.”

She let go of my fingers and stood up, her skirts swishing past me as she made her way up the stairs. I stayed where she left me, wondering if there were no words that could have adequately expressed how much I wanted that to be enough.

If it were for anything else besides saving the whole world, I might have actually asked her stay. The words were on my lips, ready to call after her as she reached the upstairs hallway, in spite of everything she’d said. But it was to save the world, and I wouldn’t betray her trust. And I’d have to find a way to live with the rest of it. 


	2. At the Court of Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 42 of ACOMAF from Rhysand's POV.

By the time we left for the Hewn City the next day, I’d resolved to just keep my mouth shut during the flight. I had hardly slept the night before and had been a peevish bastard all morning, snapping at anyone who got too close. Since I’d be the one flying Feyre to the base of the mountain, I didn’t want to risk upsetting her by saying something I didn’t mean as I sank further and further into my own dark thoughts, so I decided to just be quiet.

I could have winnowed us all there, but had decided against it. Going from the light and joy and peace of Velaris and appearing immediately at the foot of another mountain was enough to throw me off on good day. I didn’t want to put Feyre through the same thing. And I had thought that the flight would help me release some of the tension that had built up in my chest.

It didn’t.

Feyre’s presence, the warmth and weight of her in my arms, helped to a certain degree. I’d carried her through the air enough times to recognize that she’d put on a little bit of weight since she’d first arrived and, under any other circumstances, it would have made me glad. It also would have made me glad to see that she felt more comfortable flying with me than she had been before. Her body fit easily against me when I picked her up, one arm resting comfortably over my shoulder while the other braced itself on my chest.

But Feyre was mostly silent for most of the flight and that made me more uneasy than I already was. I hated myself for not being able to think of another way to obtain the Veritas, hated that I couldn’t spare her from this reminder of what she’d been through Under the Mountain. Every time I paused my scans of the ground below to look at her, she seemed lost in thought. Even the bond between us was quiet.

It was the silence in the bond that worried me the most. I could usually feel something from her, even if it was just vague impressions of what she was feeling. She wasn’t good at concealing that from me, either because she didn’t know she needed to or because it was some side effect of the mating bond. Either way, I had come to rely on that thing between us, and I was more than a little afraid of its absence. If she was retreating back into herself, if she was building walls around her heart to protect herself from what she knew waited in the Hewn City—I didn’t think I could bear seeing her like that again. I’d call this whole stupid thing off before I’d risk losing her in that way.

“Amren and Mor told me that the span of an Illyrian male’s wings says a lot about the size of . . .  other parts,” she said, interrupting my dark thoughts, and my eyes shot to hers in surprise. Her voice was steady and light. And  _ teasing _ . Her eyes weren’t clouded with fear and her face was calm. She wasn’t afraid. She was playing with me, trying to get me out of my own cursed head.

“Did they now,” I managed to say as I brought my awed thoughts back to what she’d said.     

She shrugged and I felt a tingle of embarrassment along the bond. “They also said that Azriel’s wings are the biggest.”

I almost snorted in amusement, thinking about how she had seen me naked already, wondering if that was the source of her embarrassment. “When we return home, let’s get out the measuring stick, shall we?”

She pinched me, her delicate fingertips grabbing just enough of the flesh of my bicep to sting. My wicked, wonderful mate. Two could play at that game. I grinned at her and angled my wings so that the wind pulled us down. I pulled my wings in tight and we plummeted through the sky, leaving my stress and worries in the clouds. Feyre was strong and brave and smart and she was not alone. We were together and, together, we were unstoppable.

Feyre flung her arms tightly around my neck as soon as we’d started falling, curving her body against mine. Now several hundred feet above and ahead of us, Az and Cas had stopped and were hovering, waiting for me to stop playing and get back on course. Feyre’s face was pressed against my neck and I could feel her screaming against my skin, her breath warm on my throat as strands of her hair slapped my face. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.

“You’re willing to brave my brand of darkness and put up one of your own, willing to go to a watery grave and take on the Weaver, but a little free fall makes you scream?” I asked, angling my head close to hers so she could hear me over the roar of the wind.

“I’ll  leaves you to rot the next time you have a nightmare,” she said into my neck, still clutching me even more tightly as I extended my wings and eased my body back into a stream of wind again, letting it right our position and carry me back towards the height we’d been at before.

“No you won’t,” I purred at her, still grinning. “You liked seeing me naked too much.”

“Prick.”

I laughed again, feeling better than I had in days. I loved her so unbelievably much and was so happy that she was with me, even in spite of the the role I’d asked her to play. She was perfect and wonderful and I was the luckiest bastard in the whole world.

Feyre readjusted herself in my arms so that she could cling even more tightly to me, her eyes still squeezed shut. I didn’t complain as she latched her arms around my neck and her scent filled my nose. But it was an effort for me not to hiss when her fingers brushed against one of my wings.

I held steady, willed my body not to react to the primal instinct that surged through me at the innocent touch. But when, without lifting her head from my shoulder, she ran her finger along it again, I couldn’t suppress the groan or the shudder as my entire focus narrowed to where her finger had ran along my wing.

“That is very sensitive,” I managed to grit out.

She withdrew her finger immediately and I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or not. I studied the mountains below us in an effort to refocus my concentration on the task at hand and not on the sudden pulsing in my blood as it surged towards my cock.

She pulled her face away from my neck and asked “Does it tickle?”

I allowed myself one look at her, at the blooming interest on her face and tried desperately to ignore the desire for her to run her hands over every inch of my wings. I went back to scanning the forest floor. Cauldron boil me, I wanted her to understand the effect her touch had on me, the power she possessed over me. I wanted her to know and to try it again.

“It feels like this,” I said, and then I leaned in close enough for my lips to brush against skin and exhaled softly into her ear.

Her body’s reaction was more than I’d hoped for. She arched in my arms and angled her chin up so that the column of her throat was exposed to me. I resisted the urge to run my tongue and teeth along the pale skin.

“Oh,” she gasped.

“If you want an  Illyrian male’s attention, you’d be better off grabbing him by the balls,” I explained, allowing some of the heat between us to dissipate. “We’re trained to protect our wings at all costs. Some males attack first, ask questions later, if their wings are touched without an invitation.”

“And during sex?” she asked and my blood went right back to burning through my veins at the question.

I didn’t, couldn’t, look at her. Keeping my voice as neutral as I could manage, I said, “During sex, an Illyrian male can find completion just by having someone touch his wings in the right spot.”

I felt a shot of something I wasn’t quite sure how to name yet through the bond. “Have you found that to be true?”

And then I did look at her, took in her inquisitive expression and wide grey eyes. “I’ve never allowed anyone to see or touch my wings during sex. It makes you vulnerable in a way that I’m not...comfortable with. “

I’d told her before that I’d had lovers, and it was true. But in five hundred years I’d never been in love with anybody, never felt comfortable enough to let them see all of me. I was a master of disguise and I’d spent five hundred years living behind different kinds of masks, especially when I had a woman in my life. Some of those masks were closer to the real me than others, but I’d had lovers who hadn’t even known I had wings. The fact that I didn’t feel the need to wear a mask with Feyre, that she had seen the real me so often and had not run from me, was perhaps the thing I loved most about her.

“Too bad,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.

“Why?” I asked. She’d said the words too casually and I was unsure if I wanted to continue with the conversation.

She shrugged in my arms and I thought she might be trying to fight back a smile as she looked out over the mountains below us. When she spoke, her voice was bland, as if she were talking about the weather or a book she hadn’t particularly enjoyed, “Because I bet you could get into some interesting positions with those wings.”    

Her words loosed another laugh and I felt myself growing lighter and she sloughed away more of the darkness swirling inside my head. I leaned forward, about to whisper something lewd about finding out when we got home, but I saw something dark and fast shooting towards us out of the corner of my eye. I’d been in enough battles to recognize the arrow as it flew towards us, aimed directly at Feyre.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I pulled my wings in tight and we plunged through the air, my body dodging on instinct as we tore through the sky.  They kept coming, one after the other. A deliberate attack, not a stray arrow from a hunter. I threw my magic into a shield to protect us while I flew into the path of one. I shifted Feyre so that I could hold her with one arm and caught the arrow mid-flight.

A familiar pain seared my hand immediately and I dropped the arrow with a hiss. Ash arrows. Some dead man was shooting ash arrows at me. At Feyre.

White hot fury shot through me. At the same time, I felt a prickle of fear along the  bond. Feyre remembering that her Fae body was vulnerable to ash, that a sliver of it could kill her. Her fear honed my senses and my instincts took over. My first priority was to make sure that Feyre was safe and nothing else mattered. I shot for the ground, eyes on the treeline, searching for our assailants. Her arms tightened around my neck as we fell from the sky, but my arm around her waist held her close to me, my magic fusing her body against mine to keep her from falling.

Some feral part of me had roared to life, the instinct to protect my mate, to destroy anything that would dare to harm her consuming every thought. I would kill them. I would find them and kill them all for trying to hurt her. The certainty thrummed in my blood, in every beat of my heart.  

I saw flashes of blue and red in my periphery as Cassian and Azriel changed their trajectory and shot towards us. My eyes scanned the forest to determine where the shooters were situated, but the arrows had stopped flying. I couldn’t ascertain where they’d come from and new fury ripped through my body at their cowardice.

Seconds later, I landed, snow flying and trees shaking with the force of the impact. My shields were still up and we were safer now that we were on the ground, but I couldn’t bring myself to let go of Feyre until Cassian and Azriel joined us.

I met Cassian’s furious gaze, his anger at being ambushed a whisper compared to mine. “Take her to the palace, and stay there until I’m back.” My eyes flickered to Azriel. His face was expressionless, but there was anger in those dark eyes if you knew where to look for it. We were all pissed as hell. “Az, you’re with me.”   

Cassian held out his arms to take Feyre from me. Her hair was a disaster and her cheeks were bright pink from the wind and I wanted to fly her out of here myself, wanted to take her far away where nothing could hurt her or threaten her. But I couldn’t. I had to find the bastards who’d caused all this and make them pay for threatening her. She would be safe with Cassian. I had trusted Cassian with my life thousands of times. He would protect her like she was his own.

When she sidestepped his reach and said, “No,” in a voice that was still breathless and shaking, I had to wrap a tight hand around my power to keep from blasting the trees into splinters.

“What?” The word tore from my lips before I could stop it, before I could think. She wasn’t safe here and I wanted her to be safe. I didn’t know if I’d be able to think straight until she was out of those woods.

“Take me with you,” she said. There was a desperate edge to her voice that cut through the feral instincts that had taken over my mind, allowing me to think more clearly. I forced them back even further and crossed my arms, waiting for her to explain herself.

“I’ve seen ash arrows. I might recognize where they were made,” she said, the words coming out too fast, like she was afraid of being interrupted. “And if they came from the hand of another High Lord...I can detect that too.” Tarquin. Shit. If this was his doing I’d tear him and his whole Court apart, grand aspirations for equality or not. “And,” she continued, “I can track just as well on the ground as any of you.” She locked gazes with me, her eyes like steel. “So you and Cassian take the skies, and I’ll hunt on the ground with Azriel.”

In spite of my intense desire to keep her safe, I had to admit that it wasn’t a bad plan. It was better than hunting with just Azriel while Cassian protected her at the moonstone palace. And she’d be just as safe with Az on the ground as she would be in the palace with Cassian. Even if they didn’t know what she was to me yet, my brothers at least knew I loved her. More than that, they’d accepted her into our family. Neither of them would let anything happen to her. We’d be able to cover more ground this way too, and  her gifts would be helpful in determining if our unseen enemies were from Hybern, as I suspected, or another Court.  

Even if it had been a horrible plan, I wasn’t sure if I would have been able to resist it with her standing there waiting for me to tell her no and send her away. Her face was stony, all traces of emotion hidden, a wall already building across the bond. Her attempt, I realized, to protect herself from feeling anything if I sent her away. But I wouldn’t let her feel like that, not ever again.

“Cassian—I want aerial patrols on the sea borders, stationed in two-miles rings all the way out toward Hybern. I want foot soldiers in the mountain passes along the southern border; make sure those warning fires are ready on every peak. We’re not going to rely on magic.” Cassian nodded and I turned to Az. “When you’re done, warn your spies that they might be compromised, and prepare to get them out. And put fresh ones in. We keep this contained. We don’t tell anyone inside that court what happened. If anyone mentions it, say it was a training exercise.”

I finally turned to Feyre and let myself take in her face, the new, fierce determination that flashed in her eyes. She wasn’t afraid. There had been that single tremor of fear that had shot down the bond while we were in the air, but she wasn’t afraid now. Maybe she wasn’t as pissed as the rest of us were, but she was fine. Not a soldier waiting for orders, but a warrior queen. My warrior queen. I locked gazes with her. “We’ve got an hour until we’re expect at court. Make it count.”    

I took to the skies, Cassian right behind me. The fire of my fury had iced over into something cold and vicious. This was the second time they’d known where Feyre would be. I didn’t know who our enemy was and they were tracking us and I was beyond angry. I stopped being the most powerful High Lord in history and became a predator with one goal: Find them and kill them. No that Feyre was safe, there was nothing else that mattered.

Cassian used his Siphons to winnow away in midair to give orders to his troops and I flew fast to the area where I had last seen the arrows fly, but it was deserted. When Cassian returned minutes later, he headed in one direction and I went in the other, flying in low, slow intersecting circles until we’d scanned at least twenty miles in every direction.

There was no sign of them. Nothing. They had disappeared completely and by the end of the hour, I was beyond furious.

“One more,” I told Azriel when he intercepted me in the air to tell me that he and Feyre had just a little luck on the ground and Mor had just taken her to the gates of the Hewn City.

Az raised an eyebrow. “Whoever shot those arrows is long gone, Rhys. They probably winnowed out before we were on the ground.” He was right and I knew it, but the rage wouldn’t let me go, not yet. Azriel must have seen that too, because he added, “Feyre and Mor are waiting for you.”

Bringing up Feyre was enough for me to give in. Even though she was with Mor, who could level the mountain to dust if she so desired, I wanted to be with her.  And I knew Az wanted to be there with Mor just as badly. He hated that Mor had to go back to the Court of Nightmares more than any of us, even if he kept it well-hidden. I grabbed his arm and winnowed us to the gates of the Hewn City.

Cassian was already there, waiting for us in his battle armor and extra Siphons. Azriel, too, wore his battle armor when we materialized out of thin air. They were an intimidating pair on a normal day, but now they wore matching furious expressions, only adding to how terrifying they were. These were the faces they wore on the battlefield, the war-hardened generals who’d had to fight for every good thing in their lives and weren’t afraid to fight for it again. My brothers, my friends.

When I appeared from the wind and mist, I was perfectly High Fae on the outside, my wings hidden, my clothing impeccable, an ancient crown of stars on my brow. It was a mask my father had forced me to wear whenever we weren’t in Velaris. He didn’t care that I was a half-breed Illyrian, but as far as the rest of the world knew, I was just as High Fae as he was. There were those who knew, of course, that I was Illyrian, but it was a useful deception and one of the few I had maintained after his death.

But he’d never encouraged me to hide how powerful I was here. Mor’s family, Keir especially, had expected that one of them would be next in line for the throne before I was born. By the time my mother had taken me to Lord Devlon’s Illyrian war camp for training, I had had more attempts on my life than birthdays. Most of them had been attributed to one powerful family or another in the Court of Nightmares and my father had insisted that whenever we visited the city, I let my power roll free. Now, when I approached the gates of the Hewn City, it was instinct for me to let the power roll off of me in lethal waves.

Fueling those waves of power was the icy rage still coursing through my body. Someone had tried to kill Feyre and I hadn’t found them. In my own territory. I had known she was at risk. Azriel has passed on information from his spies almost daily that the other Courts knew she’d left Spring and the various reactions to it. Amren and I had been vigilant about protect my borders and warding Velaris. Cassian anticipated that they would try something the second we left the protection of the wards. But I had expected to capture them and make them pay for it, whoever they were, whatever they were. The fact that they had escaped with their lives infuriated me to no end.

My power announced my presence before Cassian and Azriel did. The ground trembled with every step. Some of it was an intentional show, a reminder to the entire city that their High Lord was here and that they should be afraid. But some of it was the rage, seeking an outlet wherever it could..  

Ahead of me, both of my brothers stared dead ahead, assuming that the citizens of the city would get out of our way as we approached. As we marched through the city and its inhabitants quaked, scurrying out of the streets and into their stone houses, ducking into alleyways and behind walls, as if they could hide from me. I felt their fear like palpable objects and there was part of me who relished in it. There were plenty of the Fae who lived in the Hewn City who could have connections to other Courts, plenty who could have happily sold us out to Hybern. Let them remember just how powerful their High Lord was. Let them fear me.

By the time we reached the castle gates, my anger had curled itself into something useful again and I could focus on the role that I was here to play. The castle’s sentries, to their credits, didn’t so much as shiver as we passed by. They didn’t have to, their fear rolled off of them in waves, even if it was masked better than most. It was like this every time I came for a visit, no matter how long they’d known in advance that I was coming.  

_ I’m here _ , I said to Mor’s mind as I stalked through the courtyard.  _ What’s the mood like? _

_ Pissy,  _ she replied _. _

_ Not more pissy than I am,”  _ I snarled.  _ No questions as to why we’re late? _

_ No one suspects a thing. _

_ Good.  _ I hesitated and then asked,  _ How’s Feyre? _

I could almost see Mor rolling her eyes. _She’s fine, Rhys._

And then I could hear Mor’s voice echoing down the hall as we approached the throne room. At the sound of it, Azriel visibly tensed and Cassian’s shoulders tightened. Their own leftover anger from the attack solidified into a brutal rage that I recognized, for I felt its mirror in myself every time I came to the Court of Nightmares. If I hated seeing Mor here, the feeling was magnified tenfold between the two of them. I rarely asked all three of them to be there at the same time because of it. I trusted Cassian and Azriel with my life and they obeyed my orders implicitly on the rare occasions that I gave them. But one of these days, I was afraid that they would tear every member of the Court of Nightmares to pieces. And one of these days, I would not bother to try to stop them.

Not for the the first time today, I reminded myself that this whole ordeal was going to be just as hard on my family as it was on me, just for different reasons. The thought made my power flare up, the shadows dancing in my wake as I strode into the throne room.

It was still as death inside, as it always was when I arrived. These people had been trained to fear me and I didn't have to break into any minds to know it. They all held their collective breaths, assessing for themselves just how foul my mood was.

Except for Feyre.

I felt her eyes on me the second I walked into the room. I found her next to Mor on the dais immediately and I locked gazes with her, a knot I hadn't realized was tied tight in my chest going loose at the sight of her.

Her grey eyes were dark, almost hungry as she stared at me. She kept her face impassive, but I felt her awe at my unleashed power, but only awe. There was no trace of fear in her eyes or along the bond, only some raw thing that made my blood thrum.

I was vaguely aware that Mor had bowed, and the rest of the courtiers had followed suit, but my attention was focused solely on Feyre. It was only when she, too, knelt on the ground that I remembered what we were here for, the role we were playing.

“Well, well, looks like you're all on time for once,” I said, addressing the room for the first time.

From his position on the ground, Cassian looked up and gave me a wolfish grin. There had been an occasion, only one, that not everyone had been on time and I had allowed Cassian to display a measure of his anger to these people. Mor had a cousin here who probably still couldn't take a piss without cringing, and Cassian had meted out that particular punishment centuries ago. After that, my courtiers hadn’t dared to step out of line, at least, not while I was present. But Cassian was still waiting for the day when one of them would and they all knew it.

I walked past him and stopped in front of where Feyre knelt. I thought I had prepared myself to see her this way, dressed and painted for the Court of Nightmares as she had been Under the Mountain. I had hated that part of our bargain. The way the women of the Court of Nightmares dressed had never bothered me before, but I had hated seeing her dressed in scraps of chiffon and on display for every male in the room back then. And that was before I had even bothered to acknowledge what she truly was to me. And now my mate knelt before me in those clothes and I did not feel any of what I had anticipated.  

The dress Mor had shifted her into was spectacular in its indecency, the sparkling fabric clinging to her body, her pale skin almost glowing against the darkness of it, the blue black lines of her tattoo stark against her white skin. Her hair had been arranged into a shining mass of curls and braids atop her head, so that her back and neck were bare, and I could see her painted face reflected in the polished obsidian floor. A crown glittered amongst her curls and the expression she wore was nothing short of royal.  

I bent so that I could grip her chin and raised her face to look at me. Mor had done something to her lashes to make them even longer and darker, and her lips...Mother above, her lips were painted into a blood red pout that made me think obscene and wonderful things. I gave her a little smile. “Welcome to my home, Feyre Cursebreaker.”   

She lowered her eyes, demure and respectful to her master. I could feel the eyes of every single person in the throne room on us, on her. Good. That was the point. I made sure that they all saw how I owned her, how she belonged only to me as I tightened my grip on her chin and clicked my tongue, “Come with me.”

I pulled on her chin and she stood, smooth and graceful. The dress flowed around and between her legs and for a moment, I forgot where we were and what we were doing. She was beautiful and sensual and my blood hummed with desire at the sight of her.

I led her up the steps of the dais and to the throne. The entire room still bowed before us. I took the time to enjoy seeing them bow before her. There were people in this room who had whispered horrible things about her Under the Mountain. There were people in this room who had plotted to kill her only this morning. Let them bow before her a moment longer.   

It was a salve to the part of me that was chaffed raw with worry over what we were about to do. Not much of one, but enough that I managed to keep my mask in place as I pulled her onto my lap and ran my hands over her bare skin.

She stiffened a little at the touch and I almost panicked. If she was having second thoughts, it would be difficult to extract her from the situation now. I’d do it. I’d find a way to get the Veritas and keep Feyre safe, but it would be hard, especially if we left now.

In the midst of my rising panic, I saw the gooseflesh rise on her skin and realized that my hands were still icy, a leftover effect from my rage. I willed warmth into my skin and brushed a newly warmed thumb along the inside of her thigh in silent apology.

I fell back into the role I was supposed to play and leaned in so that my lips nearly brushed her ear, one hand rising to trail over her ribs in long, slow circles. I whispered into her ear, but made sure it was loud enough to be heard throughout the entire room. “Try not to let it go to your head.”  

“What?” she asked, her voice warm and liquid and smooth as honey.

One of her curls tickled my nose as I said, “That every male in here is contemplating what they’d be willing to give up in order to get that pretty, red mouth of yours on them.”

It was not an exaggeration. My brief walk through their thoughts earlier had told me enough. I was not the only male in the room who’d noticed those red lips or the expanse of her creamy skin. And if any of them, male or female, hadn’t been thinking about her mouth, they were sure as hell going to be now.

I felt a tremor of something along the bond. Not shyness or embarrassment, but something almost vicious. In my arms, Feyre smiled a bit, showing more of teeth than she usually did. My beautiful, powerful mate.  I ran my hand higher up her thigh and let my fingers settle there, too high to be anything but an open display of my possession.  

And, Cauldron boil me twice, she leaned into me, pressing her body against me, her head cocked, that smile still toying around the corners of her mouth. The Court of Nightmares still bowed before us, uncomfortable by now to be sure, but unwilling to move until I released them. Depending on my mood when I visited, I would sometimes keep them there on their knees for hours, sometimes only minutes. It served as a reminder to them that I was the most powerful High Lord in history, that they were subject to my every whim and that it was by my grace that they remained alive.

But, still as they were, by now their minds had flown in all directions as they took in Feyre on my lap, my hands on her skin, her body leaning against me. Theories were forming and I knew as soon as I released them, tongues would start wagging. Just as I wanted them too.

“Rise” I said. In a single, practiced movement, they got to their feet, and stood, waiting for me to let them loose. Finally, I said, “Go play,”  so they could begin their gossip mongering.

Music started up, and the crowd dispersed. They appeared to be partaking in their normal activities; circles of dancers forming near the musicians, wine flowing as plates were piled high with food, but I knew better. These people were snakes, all of them. None of it was visible to the untrained eye, but they were seeking their allies, spreading falsehoods to their enemies, parsing out the truth from fiction and determining at what price they would to sell it all.  I knew that before we left today there would be rumors about Feyre’s presence here across Prythian.   

It was a paltry price to pay to save the world. I knew it and still, I had to force my hands to stay where they were on Feyre’s body as I summoned Keir to the dais.  

There was perhaps no one in the world who hated me more than Keir. Possibly Tamlin, but it would have been a close call. Keir hated everything I stood for and hated even more that he was not powerful enough to stop me from carrying any of it out. He was not stupid enough to make an enemy of me once I became High Lord, but he blamed me for what had happened with Mor and he despised me for raising her to a position of power over him.

He had good mental shields, had been trained by the best to keep them that way, but my powers were stronger. He didn’t even realize that I’d slipped into his mind, didn’t know that I felt his disgust as he walked by Mor, or how that disgust morphed into fear as he passed between Cassian and Azriel. I had made it very clear to everyone in my Inner Circle that Mor would be the one who meted out her family’s punishment as she saw fit. We had all sworn a blood oath to her, but Keir didn’t know that. All he knew was that Cassian had shouldered the burden of what had been done to his daughter, had honed it into something sharp and deadly and that it was waiting to escape. He knew that Azriel had been the one to find Mor’s body and that my shadowsinger was by far the more dangerous of my brothers. And he knew that he only lived because Mor willed it.  

“Report,” I commanded as Keir stopped before the dais. I stroked a single knuckle over Feyre’s ribs, still thin enough for me to detect each bone. Keir’s eyes fixed on the movement of my hand and once he was distracted, I nodded to Mor, Cassian, and Azriel. Immediately, they disappeared into the crowd, Cassian and Mor to distract other members of her family and their allies while Azriel slipped away to steal the Veritas. Keir’s attention didn’t leave the dais, or my hand on Feyre’s bare skin.

He struggled to keep his mind empty, but his thoughts were tinged with disgust and wrath. Neither of which showed on his face or in his voice as he said, “Greetings, milord.” Another glance at Feyre, taking in her dress, her makeup, the crown atop her head.  _ You can dress her up like a queen all you want, but she’s still human trash. _ “And greetings to your...guest.”

It was an effort not to snap his neck where he stood. Instead, I picked apart enough of his treacherous thoughts to remind him that I was daemati and could crush his mind like a grape if I chose to do so. I looked over Feyre’s face, her lithe body across my lap, and said, “She is lovely, isn’t she?”

“Indeed,” he said, dropping his eyes back to the polished floor. “There is little to report, milord. All has been quiet since your last visit.”

Considering that visit had been less than a month ago, I didn’t doubt it. Still, I asked, “No one for me to punish?”

“Unless you’d like for me to select someone here, no, milord.”

That had been a tradition my ancestors had used for a millennia. Nothing like the luck of the draw to ensure that your hellish courtiers stayed in line. And while there were few innocents who lived in the Hewn City, I had never punished anyone without due cause and I would not start now.

“Pity,” I said with a click of my tongue. And then, because Keir’s thoughts weren’t entirely focused on us, I leaned forward and bit Feyre’s earlobe.

I was unprepared for the taste of her on my tongue. Sweet, and spicy, and every so slightly salty from the sweat she’d worked up searching the forest floor for fallen arrows. My blood started to pulse and I had to clamp down on my body to keep it from reacting to the taste of her.  Even so, my thumb moved higher on her leg, the touch visible to Keir as she melted into my body and her breathing hitched.  

Every emotion, every instinct, every reaction of her body barreled down the bond at me. I tightened that clamp on the urges the taste of her had unlocked. It had been so long since anyone had touched me like this, so long since I’d craved the feeling of a body against mine. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to want to be touched by a female. And Feyre wasn’t just any female. Feyre was my mate. Holding her like this, touching her, tasting her...I had not anticipated that it would be this hard to control my instincts, even with the crowd of hostile onlookers.

Keir was still talking about marriages and alliances and blood-feuds, disgust still tinging his thoughts. I let him talk, attuned myself to tenor of his thoughts, but didn’t pay much attention to the words coming out of his mouth. Nothing had changed since I had been here last, he was right, and he resented having to give me nearly the same report he’d had to give in the recent past.  

Most of my attention was focused on Feyre, on the bond between us and the way her skin felt beneath my fingers. I knew I had to be careful, that she likely still loved Tamlin, that for all her teasing and flirting, she didn’t want me. I was straddling a dangerous line and I didn’t want to end up on the wrong side of it.

I knew that every eye in the room was trained on us and I couldn’t let the façade drop. My hand kept moving along her thigh, fingers brushing along the smooth, soft skin, higher with each pass. The throne room began to warm, the heat of dancing bodies writhing against each other warming the air. I scanned the thoughts in the room to make sure they were on us and adjusted how I touched Feyre’s body to keep them interested. My eyes never left Keir’s face as he discussed the Hewn City’s gemstone trade with the other Courts and the cost of replacing a bridge that had recently fallen into disrepair.

I noticed his thoughts drifting to the rest of the room. The next time I nodded, I let my nose brush along Feyre’s neck and shoulder, my lips ghosting over her throat. She smelled even more incredible now, her spicy sweet scent tinged with something that called to the primal part of me that I was working so hard to contain.

Keir was kind enough to distract me, his thoughts a cesspool of disgust, his voice losing some of its smoothness as he said, “I had heard the rumors and I didn’t quite believe them.”  He ran an appraising eyes over Feyre’s body, the way she was splayed across my lap, his gaze lingering on where my hands rested against her, especially the hand against her thigh. “But it seems true: Tamlin’s pet is now owned by another master.”

The words were a test. He didn’t believe them, not yet. I ran my nose along the length of her neck again, breathing in her arousal as I murmured, “You should see how I make her beg.”

“I assume you brought her to make a statement,” Keir said, trying to assess how much of a statement I wanted to make and how much information he’d share with Beron.  

“You know everything I do is a statement,” I said, intentionally not giving him any indication of what that statement might be.

“Of course,” Keir said, his annoyance and disgust finally apparent in his voice. “This one, it seems, you enjoy putting in cobwebs and crowns.”

Again, I debated killing him where he stood. While I debated if it was worth the annoyance it would cause, Feyre straightened in my arms and said in a low, wicked voice, “Perhaps I’ll put a leash on you.”   

It was with great effort that I did not laugh out loud as Keir balked at her words. I caressed her mental shields and murmured again the bare skin of her shoulder, “She does enjoy playing.”  

And then, to remind him that I was his High Lord and that he was subject to my whims, and also to get him away from me so I didn’t do something stupid, like kill him, I said “Get her some wine.”

Keir obeyed immediately, his thoughts poisonous as he stalked away to follow my order.

I kissed her, light and quick, as she had once kissed me, and hoped it would convey everything I felt as I tried to get a handle on my emotions. I reminded myself that Keir was useful and that it was a bad time for me to get a new steward just because he was reacting to the bait set before him. I was grateful that Feyre hadn’t honed her skills as a daemati yet. She had sensed Keir’s disgust and risen to the occasion admirably, but I was glad that she didn’t know what was going on in the thoughts of the people in this room.  

But, as much as I hated what we were doing, it was working. Everyone focused completely on us. Mor and Cassian were both busy fielding subtle inquiries from different courtiers and not a soul was thinking about Azriel or where he was.  

A new song began and Feyre twisted in my arms so that she could look up at me. Her face was impassive, almost bored and I kept my mask a mirror of hers as she opened her mental shields just a sliver.

_ What? _ I asked.

And then I felt her reach along the bond until she reached my own shields, felt her caress  against them and I opened them just enough to let the light that was Feyre in. The glow that was the essence of her being  warmed me from the inside out as she said,  _ You are good, Rhys. You are kind. This mask does not scare me. I see you beneath it. _

The words were a balm to my very soul. I couldn’t stop my hands from tightening on her body in response as the desire to kiss her, to hold her and weep, to thank her in every way I knew how swept through me. I held her gaze and leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

It was not like the kiss she’d given me after she’d rescued me from my nightmare. My lips lingered against the softness of her cheek and I felt her hot breath on the skin of my neck before I pulled away. She leaned into me, her legs widening just a bit more, the warmth of her body both soothing and stimulating me.

_ Why’d you stop? _

The words, spoken not just into my mind, but into the core of my being, loosened my grip on the leash I had over my body. I growled, quietly enough that no one in the room heard it, but enough that Feyre felt it. I brushed my fingers against her ribs, keeping time with the pulsing of the drums as she dropped her head against my shoulder, her crown of curls brushing against my jaw. In that moment, it occurred to me that this might be real, that this was perhaps not an act, that there might be a part of her that could actually want me.

The tension that she’d held in her body from the moment I’d perched her on my lap released and my own tension fell away with it as my hands explored her. And Feyre was exploring me too, her hand dragging down my leg, her fingers pressing into the muscle as she ran her hand back up. She kept her eyes on mine as she touched me and every ounce of the desire, the  _ need, _ she felt poured along the bond until each of her breathes was a spark that threatened to set me on fire.

And I wasn’t the only one who was about to start burning. The air around us was much warmer than it had been only moments before. Beneath my hands, her skin was hot and dry, and I could feel her power sparking along the bond, threatening to consume us both.

_ Easy _ , I said into her mind.  _ If you become a living candle, poor Keir will throw a hissy fit. And then you’d ruin the party for everyone. _

Even as I spoke, the knowledge that she was burning for me, that I was the one who had done this to her, had made me hard enough to be uncomfortable. I tried to shift my attention away from it, from her. I tried to focus on the thoughts in the room, on whether or not Azriel was back, on whether or not Keir was watching us. Tried and failed because she was still touching me and her skin was still hot to the touch and I still wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything in my life.

I shifted my hips and felt the tremor of pleasure that rippled down the bond at the contact, felt how she focused solely on the feeling of my body beneath her and my hands on her bare skin. I ran my hands up and down her body, savoring in the softness of her skin and the way she arched into my touch. I hooked my hand into the belt across her hips, fingers trailing across the expanse of flesh left bare by the scraps fabric that made up her dress.

She angled her head so that it rested in the juncture between my neck and shoulder, drawing my attention out to the crowd of courtiers before us. Their thoughts were completely absorb by us, but I barely saw them. In fact, I could hardly remember what we were doing and why we were doing it as my hands roamed over her, greedy for her and unable to get enough.  

Feyre tipped her head and I followed her gaze over to where Keir stood, the wine I’d ordered him to get her growing warm in his hand as he watched us. He couldn’t decide whether or not to interrupt us. He knew I had punished men for less, even though I hadn’t done so in more than a century and he’d never,  _ ever _ seen me behave this way.

I stared him down and ran my tongue along the length of her neck and nearly swore out loud. The taste of her, the way her back arched, and her breaths coming out in short little gasps almost undid me. I drew my focus back to Keir, holding his gaze and made sure he saw how I touched her as if I had done it a thousand times and knew I would do it a thousand more. The expression on his face was visceral, his hatred and revulsion all but radiating off of him.    

_ I think he’s so disgusted that he might have given me the orb just to get out of here, _ I said as my hand drifted even higher on her thigh.

_ You and I put on a good show _ , she replied in a sultry voice that set every one of my nerve endings on fire. My hand slipped higher, my fingertips aching to find out just how soft the insides of her thighs were.

And she ground against me, her body sliding up and away and directly on top of my erection. I felt the thoughts leave her head, felt all her attention center on the length of me that pressed into her backside as she twisted her hips. Across from us, Keir might have actually gagged and I laughed.

The laughter died on my lips as she slid her tongue up from the back of my neck to just below my ear. I didn’t think I could have possibly become harder, but I did. When she turned to face the room again, it was instinct that drove my lips to the back of her neck, that urged me to taste her again. She squirmed against my erection and I braced a hand against her thigh, trying to pull her tighter against me.

And found that thigh wet against my fingers.

A thousand scenarios flashed through my mind in the span of a second as my arms tightened around her. I saw myself ripping that ridiculous dress aside and plunging my fingers in deep into the source of that wetness. I saw myself laying her on the floor and burying my face between those soft, damp thighs. I saw myself spinning her around so that she straddled me and could fuck me right there on the throne. I didn’t care that we were in the Court of Nightmares. I didn’t care that Keir was watching us intently. I didn’t care that Mor and Cassian were in the same room. All that mattered was that my mate was wet for me.

Wet  _ because of _ me.

Almost as the same time, I noticed that her skin was cool under my fingers. The fire crackling in her veins and threatening to consume us both flickered. Immediately, that primordial part of me that had been up in her thrall succumbed to shame and horror. This was not real for her. She had been playing a part and her body had gotten lost in the role and now she was embarrassed by it.

My revulsion with myself matched Keir’s as I quickly said,  _ It’s fine. It means nothing. It’s just your body reacting _ —  

_ Because you’re so irresistible?  _ she interrupted, that low sultry voice gone. I cursed myself to hell for ever asking her to practice writing with those arrogant, stupid sentences. To her mind, I managed a laugh, to help her see that it didn’t matter, that none of this mattered.  

And Azriel, who had saved me from so many things on so many occasions, chose that moment to appear and give me a slight nod. The signal that he’d retrieved the orb. I watched while Mor sidled up to him and he gave her waist the single squeeze that was the second signal. No problems then. Everything had gone well and no one suspected a thing.  

I crooked a lazy finger at Keir. He tore his attention away from his daughter and came forward with Feyre’s wine, all manner of dark thoughts swimming through his twisted brain. Most were still directed at me, some at his daughter, some at Feyre, all centered around themes of hatred and humiliation. I used my power to take the wine from him before he could set foot on the dais and set it at our feet.    

“Should I test it for poison?” I asked as I spoke into Feyre’s mind,  _ Cassian’s waiting. Go. _

“No, milord,” Keir said as Feyre untangled herself from my arms, a carnal, satisfied smile on her lips as she stood and walked to the edge of the dais. “I would never dare harm you.”

She had almost made it to Cassian. The whole ordeal was nearly over and we have would been free to leave without raising suspicion. As Feyre strode past Keir, he hissed, “You’ll get what’s coming to you, whore.”

Every single carefully controlled leash I’d bridled myself with disintegrated at those words. All my worry from the morning, all my rage from being attacked, all the sexual tension, all my anger and horror with myself exploded into a wave of night so utterly black and heavy that it was as if the sun had suddenly burst. The room went pitch black and my power lashed itself around Keir’s arms and legs, dragging him to the ground as the Court of Nightmares screamed in terror.

I had tolerated more than was perhaps my fair share of remonstrance over the years. It was a lesson my father had taught me early: I was powerful and therefore I would be tested. Often. People would never stop testing me, never stop trying to assert themselves over me. He had taught me to fight when I needed to and my mother had taught me that there were times when I could walk away. I had seen the people I loved killed and the things I cherished destroyed. I had fought for what was important and shown mercy to those who did not deserve it. And when Amarantha had come, I had let her use me to save my people. I hadn’t cared that they called me her whore because it had been my choice. I would have done it again, a thousand times over, if it meant saving my territory, my city, my family.

But I would not tolerate any threat against my mate.

The darkness faded and I saw Mor and Azriel making their way towards me, to keep me in line or to provide back up, I wasn’t sure. It was Mor’s presence that kept me from killing him outright. I had sworn that she would get to chose when and how her father died. I had sworn a blood oath to her and had made my entire Inner Circle do the same. I would not break it.

“Apologize,” I demanded.

On the ground, Keir’s body trembled with effort as he tried to break through the bonds of my magic, but I was too strong. He’d never challenged me outright, had always been smart enough to hire assassins or bribe and trick other powerful families into doing it for him. Now, he had no idea what he had done, and still he strained against my power. Still thought he could escape me.

“I said, apologize.”   

I saw his thoughts and realized that he had no intention of doing any such thing. To him, Feyre was human trash, despicable and pathetic and he wanted her dead for upsetting the balance of power he had so carefully cultivated here. And I remembered that all I promised Mor was that I would let her decide when and how her father would die. There had been nothing in that blood oath about torture.

I lashed my power down along his arm, enjoying Keir’s screams as his bones shattered. The rest of the throne room was silent as death as his shrieks of agony filled the air. No one was stupid enough to try to stop me. No one, that is, except Keir, who clung to the idea that he could get away without obeying me.

It took half a thought to crush the bones of his elbow into dust.

Keir’s thoughts were still full of hate and vitriol, even as he sobbed on the ground. After a moment, he mouthed  _ I’m sorry _ .

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough to allow anyone who threatened Feyre to live. I smashed the bones in his other arm, but it didn’t quell the beast that his threat had brought to life. Keir writhed on the ground, screaming.

I looked up and smiled at the Court of Nightmares. “Should I kill him for it?”

Silence.

I chuckled, the mask of the cool and cruel High Lord of the Night Court firmly place, and looked back at Keir. “When you wake up, you’re not to see a healer. If I hear that you do…” I obliterated the bones in his pinkie, until they were so small it would take his body years to put them back together. “If I hear that you do, I’ll carve you into pieces and bury them where no one can stand a chance of putting you together again.”

I wrapped a thread of power around his brain and let the threat of what I could do to him with that thread of power sink through the fog of pain. Keir’s eyes went wide with panic as he realized that I held his mind in my hands, his thoughts going perfectly blank as I considered what Mor would do to me if I turned her father into a slobbering idiot. Beyond Keir’s prone body, I saw Feyre watching me, her face impassive, her eyes dark as storm clouds. And then I felt the cringe that still lingered in the bond. And that was all it took to tame the angry beast I had become. I yanked on the thread and Keir’s body collapsed on the floor, still as death.

“Dump him in his room,” I ordered, knowing that someone would scramble to obey.

I didn’t pay attention to who grabbed Keir and dragged him away. I gestured to one of Mor’s cousins, pale and trembling with fright to come finish Keir’s report.

Feyre finished crossing the room to Cassian’s side, her face blank and bored. Something along the bond had changed, but I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I didn’t sense that old nervousness or repulsion from her, but I didn’t know if that was because she was very good a wearing a mask or not. She’d left that sliver of her mental shields open for me, but I couldn’t bring myself to slip back inside. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what she thought of me now.

Every fear, every hesitation, every ounce of worry from earlier drilled into me now. I shouldn’t have let her come. I should have found a different way to get the orb or figured out something else to show the mortal queens. If I had destroyed things with Feyre, I would never be able to forgive myself. If she started looking at me like I was a monster again, I didn’t know what I would do.

I had the feeling I would never recover.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a hellishly long chapter to rewrite and I'm a little uncertain about how Rhys came across since I very, very rarely write anything smutty and almost never from the guy's POV. But I'm also pretty pleased with how it turned out.


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